Page 12 of Heart's Flame

He turned to look at his mate, glorious and golden in his nudity. “I have to go. My friend is in trouble.”

* * *

It wasdark by the time they reached the outskirts of the village on the edge of the capital. Despite the chill, their horses were sweat soaked and panting from making a leisurely two day journey in one. They’d left them in a stable and hadn’t even made it to the tavern where Vian and Coren usually met when his friend stepped out of the shadows between two buildings.

Vian had never seen him look so bad. Coren’s big frame was hunched at the shoulders. His face was drawn and pale with dark rings beneath his eyes.

Stepping off the street, Vian pulled Coren back into the alley. Marcellus, hooded and cloaked with a glamour Zeph had made for him, stood with his back to the opening, blocking them from prying eyes. The glamour made the golden hue of his hair a dull brown and Vian hated it, but it was necessary. Zeph had given Marcellus several small stones laced with spells before they’d ridden out that morning.

“What’s happened?” Vian demanded, settling his hands on Coren’s shoulders.

“They’ve taken him,” Coren said, voice cracking. “They’ve taken Laiken and—”

“Who’s taken him?” Vian lowered his voice. “The Conservatory?”

Coren paled farther, but shook his head. “No. Someone wanting a ransom.” He touched a large belt pouch at his side. “I gathered all I could. I’m to meet them at Shelhurst Bridge. If I don’t…”

“Don’t even think like that. We’re getting him back.”

Shelhurst Bridge was the only real landmark on the single road running between the capital and Ferron’s southern port city, Newshell. During the day, the road was busy with travelers and traders, but folks didn’t like to be caught out on it at night because it bisected one of Ferron’s great forests. They loaded themselves into Coren’s two wheeled cart. It was a tight fit for the three of them, but with a pair of horses pulling, they made good time along the road.

Marcellus was quiet. Vian hadn’t made a big introduction between Marcellus and Coren because he didn’t know what to say. Marcellus was his mate, but the fewer people that knew he was alive the better. He reached over, running a finger over the back of Marcellus’s hand.

Turning his hand over and lacing their fingers together, Marcellus smiled at him and something settled in Vian’s chest.

“You’ve found your mate?” Coren asked, eyes never leaving the road in front of them as he urged the horses along.

“I have,” Vian said, giving Marcellus’s fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I’m happy for you.” Coren shot him a tight smile and nodded at Marcellus. They each lapsed back into their own thoughts, watching the trees pass by.

The bridge loomed large before them, a black structure in the moonlight ahead. Coren slowed the cart. The horse’s knickered and stomped, making their unease known. It wasn’t just people who didn’t like to be surrounded by this forest at night.

“Where are they?” Marcellus asked, keeping his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Vian said, one hand already on his sword hilt. “Stay alert.”

They climbed down from the cart, scanning the trees around them. A single figure broke away from the shadows of the trees and walked to the middle of the road in front of them.

Moonlight haloed her golden hair and made the fabric of her pale blue dress shimmer. Behind him, Marcellus gasped.

“Estienne. What are you doing? How are you here?”

The woman smiled. “Hello, brother. Suppose you thought I was rotting in some cell, didn’t you?”

“As you can see, Marcellus, I’ve taken very good care of her,” another voice called from the shadows, and Vian’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Araminta, his mother and the High Mage of Ferron, stepped into the light, coming to a stop beside Marcellus’s sister. She tsked at Vian. “I can see your father’s gotten to you again. He always was such a bleeding heart. If only he’d been willing to bleed a little more for me, things might have ended differently between us.”

The hard truth of what was happening here slammed into Vian’s chest. He looked over his shoulder, finding Coren’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Vian. They have Laiken.”

“Yes,” Araminta interrupted. “The wolf has been most helpful.”

“Where is he?” Coren demanded, charging forward. Vian put his arm out to keep Coren from getting too close to his mother. “You said if I got Vian here, you’d free him!”

“I know what I said,” Araminta snapped. “For now, wait your turn.” She moved forward, a third woman moving to flank her along with Estienne. This woman Vian recognized. The last time he’d seen her she’d been in a servant’s dress. Now, she was wrapped in a red velvet frock, sleek and meant for riding. Her dark hair was piled in elegant curls on top of her head and a large ruby pendant hung on a gold chain around her throat. She was a witch. Vian was sure of it.

Araminta’s eyes traveled over Vian, disdain etched into every line of her face. When she moved her gaze to Marcellus, Vian couldn’t help but try to step between them. She smirked at him. “I was so sure you’d killed him. Zephiran is clever. I will give him that.”

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